


a drowning man will clutch at a straw

by mikazure



Series: Dark Wade [3]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Angst, Begging, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Captivity, Dacryphilia, Dark Wade Wilson, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Power Imbalance, Psychological Torture, Quentin Beck isn't exactly good but he comes around, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sadistic Wade Wilson, Scared Peter Parker, Threats, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27049747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikazure/pseuds/mikazure
Summary: Sequel toout of the frying pan, into the fire
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker, Spider-Man/Deadpool
Series: Dark Wade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922596
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94
Collections: SpideyPool*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Due to popular demand and an idea that came to me, I decided to write a little continuation for this story! Again as it was the case with first one, I'm not 100% sure where this story goes, hope I won't disappoint!   
> And another fun fact at polish proverbs: a drowning man will clutch at a straw is "the drowning man catches a razor blade" in polish, which is imo cooler and more fitting for this story 😉
> 
> I'll try to update it as often as I can, but as we all know life can happen, so bear with me lol!
> 
> As always thanks to Spinning_In_Infinity for the beta! 💙

Quentin Beck, AKA Mysterio, was dead. Or so everyone thought.

In reality, he was fine as ever. His illusions worked like magic, as they were supposed to be. He framed Peter Parker and ipso facto freed the city of the menace that was Spider-Man. Though, there was still one thing that bothered him about the whole situation. The young hero simply vanished, and no one knew where he was. It was slightly concerning if you asked Quentin. He never pegged Peter as a sneaky person, though maybe he should, considering the boy managed to keep his identity secret for so long. Still, there was something that didn’t add up and so Beck decided to take matters in his own hands.

While the foolish masses surely believed in his version of the story, he couldn’t be so sure if Parker didn’t go seeking help from his Avengers buddies.

Even without E.D.I.T.H., Quentin still had his drones, now upgraded. For weeks he’d been sending them out looking for Peter. He was almost ready to give up, thinking either the boy was sneakier than he gave him credit for or maybe left the city. But then one drone noticed him. A split second of his face in some apartment window. No doubt it was the boy Beck was looking for.

Ordering the invisible drone to move close enough to see inside, but not too close to arouse suspicion, he watched. Peter looked miserable. His body was littered with bandages and band aids. Also, his clothes were too big. Something seemed off.

Curiosity got the better of him and so Beck was on his way to pay Spider-Man a little visit. It was a surprising impulse. He didn’t have any real plan for the encounter, just scouting and assessing what the little spider was up to.

Landing quietly on the fire escape, Quentin looked inside. Peter was alone, back turned to the window as he lied on the bed. He seemed smaller than Beck remembered.

The man knocked on the glass and the boy jumped, whipping his head in his direction. Quentin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Peter looked seriously scared for a moment there, before his face contorted in a mix of disbelief and shock.

“Mr. Beck? But you—” Almost tripping as he got out of tangled sheets, the young hero reached the window and opened it.

“You’re not dead, but I saw you—”

Peter’s eyes looked haunted, but Beck had a feeling it wasn’t because of him. The boy’s body was indeed scrawnier than the last time they saw each other. Up close, the man could see the marks of all sorts and bruises that densely covered Peter’s pale skin. Some looked old, some new, but definitely not just the marks of a fight, more like . . . abuse _?_ He also had dark circles under his eyes and stood hunched over, fragile, like he could break from the lightest touch.

“That was an illusion, kid.” Beck explained. He came here to gloat, but the boy looked so pathetic, he almost lost all the interest in doing that. “But what happened to you? You looked better after our fight and I tried to kill you then.” _Almost._

That somewhat snapped Peter from his shock, brows furrowing in a scowl.

“What’s it to you? You shouldn’t be here.” Boy’s words lacked power and anger. Instead he sounded tired and irritated.

Beck crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “Why’s that?”

Peter hesitated. Part of him wanted to punch Beck for being the (in)direct cause of his dismay, but another even bigger part of him was glad to see him. Because that meant he didn’t kill anyone. Mr. Beck was right there and well, after all. It was also a nice change. It had been weeks, at least, since Peter saw and talked to someone other than Wade and his own pitiful reflection. 

“This— this is Deadpool’s place.” Just the name was enough to make the young hero shiver.

Beck noticed. He knew who Deadpool was, everyone who mattered did. Even with the merc’s questionable reputation, Quentin didn’t expect him to . . . do whatever he was doing to Peter.

“You don’t owe me any explanation, but what’s going on here, Peter?” He was simply curious, it wasn’t like seeing the boy in this sorry state made him feel something.

It looked like Beck wasn’t leaving until he got some information and the boy had little to lose. Mysterio was no threat compared to Deadpool and it wasn’t like Peter had even any pride left. Wade took it from him somewhere between making him beg for more while he raped him and torture, approximately. So, for his own sanity, he figured it’d be better to just let it out, to the first and maybe only person that he’d get the chance to speak with.

He took a deep breath and practically screamed out at Beck:

“After my identity got revealed, I panicked and came here, because I thought Deadpool was my friend and would help me, but turns out he’s just a fucked-up psycho who decided to keep me here and— and he—!” He couldn’t finish, admitting the reality of everything he’d been through hurt too much. Peter’s breath hitched with a choked sob. “It your fault, Mr, Beck . . .”

It must have been really bad with him, if he was venting to his ex-enemy, or maybe still current enemy, to be determined.

Jaw dropped a little, Quentin could only stand there and listen. He had no idea if he should comfort the boy, leave, or apologize. Scratch that, no, it wasn’t Beck’s fault that Parker asked one of the most dangerous mutants on the planet for help, now was it?

Before he could decide what to do, though, the boy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked at him with those doe eyes, now rimmed red from tears.

“You should go. Now! Before he comes back.” Anxiety all too clear in boy’s voice.

As much as Beck had fucked up his life, Peter would never wish Deadpool’s wrath upon anyone. And he couldn’t even begin to guess what the unstable mercenary would do if he found Mysterio here, talking with  _his_ Peter. The young hero hated that thought, but it was how Wade saw him, probably. His. An enhanced toy that he finally got his hands on and never planned to let go of.

Well, if he thought about it, this whole situation was Beck’s fault to begin with. Hell, maybe Deadpool would even  _thank_ Quentin if he met him. The boy humored the thought for a brief moment.  _Unlikely._

Peter twitched, his senses starting to tingle only a second sooner than his ears picked up the all too familiar, menacing sound of Deadpool’s boots echoing in the stairway, as he got closer and closer to the apartment.

“H-he’s here! You have to go, please just go and don’t come back!” Peter whispered, pushing at Quentin as far as he could reach from out of the window with panicked urgency. The boy was utterly terrified.

Something in Beck shifted at the sight, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Peter really looked pitiful and that was a lot coming from a guy who’d messed with the boy’s head and basically pushed him under a train. However, that situation seemed to pale in  comparison to Peter’s current one, which, despite himself, made Quentin feel just a tad bit guilty and responsible. Some ridiculous part of his nonexistent conscience even wanted to help the boy out. No, no, no. That wasn’t his problem. He merely came here to see what was going on.

Now they both heard the jingling of keys just outside the door and Peter looked like he was a second away from crying again.

“Please! Go!”   
  
“Fine, fine.” Quentin put on an illusion and disappeared from sight just as the door clicked open.

“I’m home, Petey-pie~” Wade called from the entrance, like he always did.

Peter basically threw himself away from the window, ducking under the covers on the bed and trying to calm his hammering heart. Too close, too close for comfort, he thought.

Deadpool walked to the room, leaning against the door frame.

“Still sleeping, baby boy?”

“Not anymore,” came a short muffled reply. Peter hoped to all gods that his voice didn’t sound suspicious. Whatever that could mean to Wade. Not like he knew Beck was here. Right? When he was first left alone, the young hero searched the place far and wide looking for cameras or wiretap, but never found any. Though, with Deadpool, he could never be sure of anything.

Step by step, Wade walked up to the bed and by god, Peter felt his body seize up in fear as the man approached. The boy hated it. All the power Deadpool had over him, while just standing there. The seeds of fear he planted in Peter’s very being really gave yield.

In one motion, the blanket was yanked off the boy and he couldn’t help the short yelp as his body curled up tighter on the mattress.

“What’s up, Spidey? You seem nervous, more than usual, you know?”

“No, it’s nothing, I— um . . . had a bad dream, that’s all.” Peter forced himself to relax as much as possible.

Wade studied his face with piercing white eyes of his mask. The boy couldn’t bring himself to look in them.

“Really now? You look more like a guilty puppy. Did you piss somewhere in the house, huh, pup?” Despite the joke, the edge of suspicion was clear in his question. Peter cringed.

“Of course not.”

A big gloved hand grabbed his jaw and tilted it up. “But there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Wade didn’t know, right? He couldn’t know. When Peter first searched the house, he was honestly surprised there were no cameras or traps, nothing to keep Peter from leaving. The feeling of helplessness flooded him even more at that. Yet another one of Deadpool’s power plays. Almost a challenge. The boy could leave anytime, but he remembered clearly what the merc  _promised_ him last time he tried, and he didn’t want to face said consequences. No one in the world could protect him from Wade Wilson.

“No! I told you, it was just a nightmare.” Even in his own ears Peter didn’t sound convincing.

“Okay.” Deadpool released his jaw and the boy sagged back to his knees on the bed.

“I know just the thing to help you with nightmares, baby boy.”

And whatever the man had in mind, it was never good. Every day, dying kept moving lower and lower on the list of the worst things that could happen to Peter here.

“Let’s go.”

“W-where?” The boy whispered, but he knew already.

Deadpool kicked the rug away and yanked the hatch in the floor open with ease. “Basement, baby.”


	2. Chapter 2

Something happened when he was gone, Wade could tell. His clever little spider was up to something and more than anything it excited the merc. Plus, any reason to punish Peter was a good enough excuse for him.

Frankly, he didn’t even care all that much what caused Spidey’s off behavior. More so, he wanted to see how Peter would like the newest addition to his basement paraphernalia.

“Come on.” Deadpool whistled as though calling a dog.

Face flushing with humiliation, Peter followed down the stairs after not more than a moment of defiance. He could protest, but Wade would drag him down there anyway and, by now, the boy knew that he should save up his energy whenever they went to the basement.

He descended each step slowly, anything to postpone the clearly incoming torture even by seconds. His heartbeat accelerated as the memories of this place came rushing back to him. There were still places where his blood stained the concrete of the floor and walls.

Wade walked across the first room, stopping in front of the door Peter had never seen him open before. He swallowed hard. The boy never knew what he could expect down here and it frightened him so.

With a clinking of the keys, Deadpool unlocked the door and opened it.

The young hero squinted his eyes to see what was inside, but it was too dark to make anything out.

A snap of fingers pulled him back to reality and he saw the merc wordlessly motion for him to approach. Peter couldn’t move, his legs rooted in place with fear.

“Peter.” The sharp, low voice called his full name and that was enough to get the boy to move timidly.

“What’s in there?”

The merc went in first, flipped the switch and waited for the flickering lights to illuminate the space.

The room was mostly empty, save for few boxes and a glass capsule of sorts standing in the middle.

It was nothing less than the machine Francis had introduced Wade to, to trigger his powers. Deadpool hated it and the – now long gone – man with all his heart, but if there was one thing he’d have to give him credit for, it was that it worked. Stress, pain and fear, a three-in-one device! After all, he experienced it firsthand, for far longer than he had liked to.

“What— what is it? What does it do?” The hero eyed the capsule warily. It didn’t look impressive, but he knew appearances could be deceptive.

“Not much. It just lowers the concentration of oxygen in the air to the exact point where you’ll feel like you’re suffocating. When your brainwaves slow, it’ll turn up the O2, if your heart rate slows, meaning you caught your breath, it’ll turn it back down.” Deadpool’s expression was dark and his masked eyes distant. 

“Suffocating?!” The boy took a step back, watching as Wade gently brushed the smooth surface of the container with his fingertips.

“Consider this a time-out. Being in this really makes you think, y’know.”

“Y-you’ve been in this?”

“Well not in this one exactly. That one got destroyed, but yeah.” Deadpool finally looked away from the device and turned to slowly walk in Peter’s direction.

“Not gonna go into details, but it’s part of the reason I got my powers.” Now Wade was behind him, pushing the boy forward with bruising grip on his shoulders.

“You see, to trigger the mutation, my body needed to be subjected to extremely stressful conditions.”

One step at a time, they were getting closer as Deadpool continued.

“But even before getting the healing factor, I was a resilient guy. So this? This was their last resort. If this wouldn’t work on me, maybe nothing else would. But it did.” Peter whimpered when the last sentence was whispered right in his ear.

“And, call me sentimental, but it easily lands in my Top 10 Most Shitty Life Experiences.” Wade chuckled and opened the glass. “Now hop in, baby boy.”

Peter’s eyes flickered nervously between the man’s face and the capsule. He looked like he was ready to bolt.

“I— I don’t want to.” He was trembling, so deliciously scared that Wade wasn’t sure how he hadn’t jumped the boy right then and there yet. _Self-control, Wilson, don’t get distracted._

“You can go in there on your own, like a good boy, or I can put you there by force and leave you in here for waaay longer than I planned. And trust me, time passes too damn slowly when you’re struggling to breathe.”

Tears of helpless frustration stung in the corners of Peter’s eyes. This nightmare never ended. Shoulders dropping with defeat, he sat on the edge of the container and threw his legs over until he was lying down.

“There we go~” Deadpool smiled and secured the boy’s wrists into metal cuffs. Peter tugged, more on reflex than really hoping to break them. Super strength proof, as everything else in the man’s possession.

Closing the lid, Wade said. “Try not to panic too much, hyperventilating with little to no oxygen is a bitch.”  _Asshole._ Peter hated Wade almost as much as he was scared of him.

With a press of few buttons the machine turned on. The hero managed one last deep breath before he heard the hiss that most likely meant that the chamber was being drained of oxygen. He had to exhale, but when his lungs tried to inhale as they normally would, it felt wrong. Empty. And didn’t provide what his body needed.

Wade stood there for few minutes, watching Peter’s expression turn terrified and desperate to get out after merely a few not-quite breaths. The boy tried to inhale to no avail.

He couldn't, there was not enough air. Panicked, he tugged at the restraints, but of course there was no give and the effort only caused him to use up more oxygen left in his system.

Peter tried to beg, but despite his best efforts he only managed to wheeze incoherently with not enough air in his lungs to speak.

It was a bizarre feeling. Choking without actual pressure on his neck. Drowning without water. Suffocating. Dying. It felt like dying.

His vision blurred, there were dark spots dancing in front of the eyes. His heart was beating way too fast and loud, so much that he could feel it pumping blood in his veins. Waves of heat tore through his body, but he could feel the cold sweat prickling at his skin. And his spider-sense just wouldn’t shut up, as if Peter didn’t know he was in fucking danger.

Everything was too much, but he couldn’t even scream or cry properly. His lungs and throat burned, he couldn't take it anymore. He felt his consciousness slipping away and it was almost blissful. Anything to escape what he was feeling.

Except nothing could be that easy. Right before he could pass out, the ventilation hissed and some oxygen was allowed in his system again. Only a shallow breath that brought him enough senses that he couldn't pass out, before the air supply was cut short again.

Shit, no! That wasn’t nearly enough and only stimulated his body with the need for more.

Over and over. An endless circle of floaty state between breathing and passing out. Yet another flavor of hell served to him by Deadpool.

How long did he even plan on leaving Peter in this thing?! The boy couldn’t take it. He couldn’t and, oh god, Wade pointed at the watch on his wrist, it wasn’t even a full quarter, but in his mind, hyper-focused on every awful sensation, it felt like hours.

Begging with his eyes with all his might, Peter turned his head in Wade’s general direction. He couldn't quite see, his eyes just wouldn't focus. However, he saw that the man gave him a small wave before turning around and leaving. Leaving him? Here? In this thing?! God, no, please, how long?! He couldn’t take it, no, no, please! He’d do anything else then, just to get out and be able to breathe properly again!

Peter thrashed anew, but that made his situation worse again.

Like he thought earlier, death would be a mercy, almost a reward at this point.

Wade could watch him for hours. He knew exactly how abhorrent the feeling was, but on the other side of the glass it was  _fascinating_ . Peter’s face contorted in pure fear and panicking with each breath he couldn’t take. Beautiful.

While Deadpool didn’t have any cameras in the house itself, he couldn't help but install some in the basement. After all, it was a place where “magic” happened. Or more specifically all the bad, sexy things he did to his boy, but knew he couldn't do over and over if he wanted his little spider still sane and not completely broken. Hence saving the footage that he could go back to if he wanted~!

Settling on a chair in front of the screen with live feed from camera perfectly angled at Peter’s face, Wade slipped a hand down his pants. He was so hard. Lazily palming at his length, he pulled it out and reached for lube. With his now slicked up hand, he went back to playing with himself.

He stroked up and down his scarred dick, already dripping precum. The boy just had that effect on him. Too damn adorable to handle as he was, but when he was scared or crying, something primal growled in Wade’s chest. He tried to go slow to prolong this, but his gut was already tightening with incoming orgasm. It didn’t take long before he spilled in his own fist, grunting as he did. Eyes half-lidded, he cleaned his mess and continued to watch.

Another half an hour later, Wade decided to take mercy on his poor boy. There were red lines from now dried tears decorating his cheeks and his eyelids were fluttering shut then open again. Peter looked exhausted, his body strained and trembling.

When Deadpool walked into the room, Spidey seemed to have pulled back from his dissociative state. He looked at Wade with all of the little energy he had left, mouthing pleas. The man complied and pushed the button, before opening the glass lid.

Peter took a deep breath, immediately choking from abundance. He coughed and took another and another. His body sagged in relief as the sweet, delicious oxygen filled his system freely again. Making him feel high and suddenly hyper-aware of everything, now that his senses weren’t clouded. The boy never felt more thankful for just being able to breathe.

“Much better, right?”

Peter’s eyes snapped open, his features tensing with apprehension, but he was greeted with a soft, dreamy smile dancing on Wade’s lips. Nonetheless, the young hero didn’t want to take any chances.

“Y-yes, thank you. I’m s-sorry I—” His voice was panicked and hoarse, but he was stopped by a finger on his lips.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby boy.”

Peter looked hesitant, but didn’t try to talk again. Wade freed the boy’s stiffened limbs and scooped up his shaking form with ease.

Despite himself, he buried his face in the merc’s chest and started crying. Not sure if he was crying because it was so awful and traumatic, or because now he could breathe normally again and it felt so good. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop the tears from spilling.

Deadpool was whispering something to him as he brought him back up to the bedroom, but Peter couldn't focus enough to understand him.

He was lain on the bed and Wade opened the window, letting the fresh night air in. It was so nice. The hero wished he had the energy and  _permission_ to go out and swing through the city, maybe even without his mask so he could catch as much air with every breath. Weird, that was probably the most positive thought he had in a while. He indulged in it and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has suggestions for kinks/torture feel free to drop them in the comments. Can't promise I'll use them, but maybe it'll give me some ideas ;3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you liked and want to keep me motivated to write more! <33


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